Wild Barley
Once, all this was fields,
Before the semis and the lawns –
But their ghost still haunts the verges
Where the stinging nettle spawns,
The brambles form a makeshift hedge,
The foxes keep the rabbits clear,
And the accidental barley waits
For the fresh suburban beer.
Once, all this was pasture,
Till the Guinea pigs replaced the sheep –
Yet deer still nibble round the edge,
And moles have penetrated deep.
The thistles form a pop-up wood,
The owls invade the lean-to shed,
And the reawakened barley waits
For the local deli’s bread.
This straggly mess looks more like the cultivated variety’s disreputable cousin, Wall Barley. But even this is now being used as a food, and what can be more artisanal than that ?
Rhyming Couplets 